


Strategy Session

by Lost_Girl_02



Category: American Pie (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Developing Relationship, F/M, Like a boatload of unresolved sexual tension, One Shot, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, overuse of ellipses, this turned out way longer than I expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Girl_02/pseuds/Lost_Girl_02
Summary: "If I can't do this my way...we'll just have to do it yours."Emmett looked at her with wide eyes, "Wh-what do you mean 'my way'?"With a smirk, she ran a finger up his arm and draping her other arm over his shoulders, pulling him towards her. "Well...you said you guys met at band camp. Why don't you show me what you learned?"* * *Or Stephanie invites Emmett over for a strategy session for how to seduce Grant, but ends up finding out that she may want her partner in crime more.
Relationships: Stephanie Stifler/Emmett (American Pie)
Kudos: 16





	Strategy Session

**Author's Note:**

> So...I fully expect no one to read this, but I watched American Pie: Girls' Rules two nights ago and I loved the Stephanie/Emmett pairing. (Also the movie was a little better than I expected, but I digress.) I wanted to do a little unseen moment between the pairing, and all the UST that I could fit, but this somehow turned into a Stephanie Stifler character study (but also with a crapton of UST).
> 
> I wrote this and posted it within four hours, but I've proofed it as much as I could, so if there are any mistakes I take full responsibility.
> 
> Enjoy!

Stephanie Stifler was used to being wanted.

Between her family's reputation, _her_ reputation, and the general mindset of every boy (or man, or some women) in her vicinity, it was a feeling that hadn't really gone away since it had first appeared when she was thirteen years old. Along the way, she had gotten used to that feeling, started to like it even.

Maybe that was what made Grant so appealing.

He was the first guy in a while that made it a challenge for her. He didn't fall at her feet just for one night, or brag about what she did (and often _didn't_ do) to or with them. He looked at her eyes instead of her tits, even if his gaze was laced with a little more fear than was fun.

"Hello... _Stef_ ," Emmett's voice cut through her thoughts, and she leveled him with a glare she had perfected the summer she got breasts but hadn't had time to buy new bathing suits and so going to the pool had become a hassle.

"What do you want?" She snapped, but with less annoyance than usual.

There were two weeks until the dance, and Stephanie had insisted on upping their "Grant Strategy Sessions" to "whenever she felt like it," and had basically coerced-slash-bribed Emmett into agreeing to meet her at her house. She was currently sprawled out on her bed in only dark grey leggings with mesh cutouts running up the side of her leg to her hip (which clearly revealed she wasn't wearing underwear), and a matching sports bra with two straps criss-crossing over her chest, having kicked off her Doc Martens and discarded her leather jacket.

While she was completely relaxed in her own space, Emmett looked like he would rather be anywhere else, standing stiffly in the corner of her room, clearly trying not to look at her underwear thrown casually over the back of her desk chair.

"Take a fucking chill pill, man," Stephanie groaned, standing up and throwing the panties in her closet before flopping back down on her bed.

"Charming as always, Stephanie," he sighed, sitting on her desk chair...at the very edge though.

She tried not to smirk, but it was less mean-spirited or mocking, and she felt genuine affection seeping through the walls she had built up with conquest after meaningless conquest. Emmett looked so out of place in her mess of a room, what with his button-up that was just on the right side of tight, skinny jeans that hugged lean legs, and dark hair that was begging to have her fingers ran through it.

Shaking her head and rolling onto her side, as if that would clear the thoughts that had decided to take over her mind...ones that involved her and Emmett and decidedly less clothing and him putting that smart mouth to frighteningly good use.

 _It's just a dry spell_ , she told herself, ripping her eyes away from Emmett. _You haven't had sex since the summer, and it's just getting to your head._

"Why does being a good person have to be so hard?" She blurted out.

"You're not a good person," Emmett shot back without hesitation, and she had to keep a smile off her face at that.

Normally, guys would want to placate her, never arguing with her or else risk their chance with her. Never Emmett though. He matched her sarcasm with his own, never letting her off the hook.

"No shit," she bit out, turning back onto her side. "All my friends are decent people, Grant's a decent guy... _you're_ even a halfway good person. You know, when you're not giving me dirt on your friend for money."

"Wow, way to flatter the guy helping you seduce your dream guy," he replied, and she might be imagining the redness flooding his cheeks...but she kind of hoped she wasn't.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed, "He's _not_ my dream guy, just a walking wet dream." But somehow, the words rang a little more hollow, just a little more false, than they had only a couple weeks ago.

Emmett faked a gag, and now she _definitely_ wasn't imagining the blush that covered his cheeks. "Moving on, we need a way to make you the center of Grant's attention. A way to make him want you, because he can't have you...or find the time to talk to you or something.

"I mean, you're describing a party," Stephanie pointed out dryly. "And Stiflers are known to throw _the best_ parties in East Great Falls."

"Okay," he started, his whole form relaxing as he clearly started formulating a plan to help her, "so we just need a reason for him to come to this party."

"It's a party, he's a teenage boy...I'm not seeing the problem," she shrugged. And if _she_ specifically invited him to a party, it couldn't be clearer what she wanted.

"But he's not like regular teenage boys, right? Isn't that the point of your little, 'I'm _not_ a sex goddess' charade," he asked, his tone with a slight edge to it.

She couldn't help the grin that spread over her face—something about the way he said the words "sex goddess" did something to her.

(In the back of her head, she thought it was that he simultaneously was clearly attracted to her, but also wanted to help her fuck another guy.)

"Not just another notch on my lipstick case..." she murmured, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Right," he said just as quietly, looking down at his hands before meeting her gaze with those big brown eyes.

Suddenly, she needed... _something_. She needed him to look at her tits or try and kiss her or just _anything_ that said he was only doing this to get into her pants. Stephanie couldn't quite handle it if he just kept looking at her like he just wanted to help her, looking at her like he cared about her happiness.

Standing up, she grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet before she could think about what she was doing. "If I can't do this my way...we'll just have to do it yours."

Emmett looked at her with wide eyes, and she could barely hear his breath hitch since she had never actually moved away, so they were standing barely six inches apart. "Wh-what do you mean 'my way'?"

With a smirk, she ran a finger up his arm, feeling the lean muscles there, biting her lip and draping her other arm over his shoulders, pulling him towards her (the distance closed to about two inches). "Well...you said you guys met at band camp. Why don't you show me what you learned?"

She was a little cross-eyed since they were so close, her eyes dropping pointedly to his lips, before dragging back up to his eyes. Stephanie forced the way her heart started beating slightly faster, her breath coming a little more shallowly ( _it's just because of the dry spell...it's just because you want this to turn sexual...this could be any other guy_ ), into the back of her mind. Biting her lip, she shifted again, pushing even closer, until she could feel the entire length of Emmett's body against hers.

And she definitely didn't feel heat pool in her stomach at the sensation of his...surprisingly toned form crushing her curves.

Stephanie knew she was daring him to touch her, to kiss her, to fuck her even, but she didn't expect him to answer the challenge.

Something in the air shifted, she could practically _feel it_ , as he grabbed her hips, the tops of his long pointer fingers curving over the edge of her leggings, and the skin on her hip practically _burned_ at the contact. Her breath stuttered involuntarily in her chest...she had never been this turned on by such a simple brush of skin-on-skin. And it wasn't even skin she _expected_ to be worked up by after being touched there.

Emmett looked at her...but it was more than just a simple look. All the uncertainty or nervousness was gone from his eyes, instead, replaced by a heated gaze that made her skin feel like it was on fire and wetness pool in her crotch.

 _Shit, I liked these leggings too_ , she thought absentmindedly, her hand on his forearm gripping it tightly.

Stephanie Stifler was not a girl whose knees buckled easily...but as Emmett pressed forward, his pupils dilated so much she could barely see the brown of his irises, his entire torso pushing her backwards, her legs felt like they were about to give way underneath her. She was a little shocked at his actions, her breath coming in pants as she felt her stomach clench as she felt her bed against the back of her legs.

His hands tightened just a bit, but it was enough to send a shock of heat running through her, a heat that only intensified when his thumbs brushed over her hip bones...so close to where she wanted him desperately.

Her arm tightened around his shoulders, pressing a hand between his shoulder blades, the hand on his arm moving to twist in the front of his shirt.

He took another step forward, one hand running up her side—light enough to tease, but just firm enough that she knew she was not going to be forgetting this anytime soon—to cup the back of her neck. Sucking in a sharp breath at the feeling of his hand running under her hair to hold her in a way that was almost careful (any other time she had been in this position, with a hand clutching at her neck, it was always possessive in nature, the kind she only tolerated because the owner of said hand gave her decent to good orgasms), she unconsciously tipped her head back. She wanted to shiver in anticipation, silently begging him with her gaze to have his lips land on the recently proffered skin.

But, he appeared to have other plans, since he smirked in a way she had never seen Emmett smirk before, his lips curving upwards higher on one side, only serving to highlight his jawline and the mischievous glint in his eyes. He tipped her backward, pressing his body into hers to get her to lean back, the hand on her hip squeezing once...almost to let her know he was going to catch her.

The thought to fall had barely crossed her mind before her back was hitting the mattress and whatever was left of her breath was being pushed out in a _whoosh_.

Emmett wasn't far behind, her arm around his shoulders pulling him with her, somehow managing to catch himself on an elbow, slotting a knee between her legs, but not pushing against her center. She let out a moan at the way his eyes seemed to darken even further, lust slowly overtaking the cool, (somehow) suave façade he was projecting, and when his lips _finally_ landed against her throat, she couldn't help the noise that escaped her. His lips practically caressed her neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there, settling over her pulse point and he focused his ministrations there, just enough to make her insides twist with heat and want, but not enough that should bruise in the morning.

Feeling her stomach swooping as he let out a low moan against her skin, his breath fanning hot across her damp skin, the temperature in her room feeling like it was rising steadily, Emmett used the hand on the back of her neck to tilt her head back even further, angling it so he had easier access to continue kissing his way across her skin. As his other hand, the one tight at her hip, shifted around to rest low on her back, still sliding just underneath the top band of her leggings so she knew he was aware he was touching skin normally hidden by another layer, she clutched the front of his shirt even tighter to pull him impossibly closer, her other hand going to comb through his hair, the silky strands tangling in her grip. His long fingers brushed against the uppermost curve of her ass, and she shouldn't be surprised, but she was, that the barest tease of his touch made her moan more than if he had just grabbed at her ass like any other guy would have.

She was slightly taken aback at how needy she must have sounded, but she wasn't one easily embarrassed, especially not about or during sex, but she was spiraling dangerously out of control. For all her exploits with the male population of East Great Falls, no one had ever gotten her so worked up without even something as simple as a kiss, and she was starting to remember why she thought this would be an awful idea.

Grant was safe. He was who she _should_ want. He was gorgeous and nice and smart and had absolutely zero interest in her, so she should be thrilled with the chase, with someone who _didn't_ want her for once.

Emmett was snark and annoyance and afternoons in the library not having sex. Emmett was pictures of nine-year-olds who were happy and free and whose feelings weren't hurt. Emmett was that involuntary smile she got whenever she saw him on the morning announcements and falling into his lap on the bleachers with old-ass photography equipment and dumb Harry Potter references and how he called her "Stef" when he wasn't paying attention to what he was saying.

Emmett was (apparently) hands that sparked a wildfire on her skin and breath fanning across her lips in a way that felt more intimate than a kiss and his body pressing hers into her own mattress.

(Emmett was what she probably needed but wasn't sure she could admit she did because nice relationships generally weren't in the cards for Stiflers.)

"So, is that a lipstick case in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" She managed to ask, although it certainly came out as more of a sigh than she intended.

She could feel him pressing against the inside of her thigh, and Stephanie arched her back, arms tightening around him, letting his hand on her back press against her skin firmly as his lips continued to press against her neck, in an attempt at finding friction or just getting him to where she needed him...and it was a _need_ at this point.

But apparently, her words shocked him, because she felt him stiffen against her—and not in the fun way—as his entire form locked up, the electric charge dissipating from the air so quickly it felt equivalent to a bucket of ice water being thrown over them. She opened her eyes, not quite sure when she had closed them (probably someplace between falling onto the bed and feeling his erection against her), and her heart dropped when she saw the attraction replaced with fear and nerves.

"S-sorry, Stef," he muttered, his voice hoarse and husky in a way that only made more heat pool in her stomach—fuck, her leggings were totally ruined at this point.

Realizing that he was pulling away, Stephanie knew she needed to salvage the situation, to regain some of the control she had so willingly handed over to _Emmett_ of all people. She sat up abruptly, and he practically _leapt_ from the bed, backing up until he hit her desk chair and sat down hard, obviously hiding the bulge in his jeans. Tossing her head back, hoping her short hair wasn't a mess, but knowing everything about her—her flushed cheeks, the heat that seemed to be radiating from every pore of her skin, the glaze that surely covered her eyes before she forced a coolness back into them—said the opposite.

"I asked you to, so I can't really complain," she replied, pleased that her voice came out sounding normal and not the absolutely fucking _wrecked_ version she thought it was going to be.

"Just...at the party...put on some, some Vladimir Ullrich and you'll be fine," he blurted out, his hair a tousled mess from her hands, his shirt-front wrinkled, and his eyes were wild as he stood up again, but going right for the door this time.

"Oh, okay," she called after him, slightly confused on what he was talking about before realizing the reason she was even talking to Emmett again was because she was supposed to be seducing Grant for the pact.

If he had heard her, he didn't react like he did, just running out the door like he couldn't get away from her fast enough. Like he didn't leave her so fucking wet she would get herself off three times just thinking about his mouth on her neck and his hands wandering farther than they actually had. Like he hadn't looked at her like he was the first guy to see her as Stephanie (as _Stef_ ) and not a Stifler or an easy lay...like she was something special.

When she heard the front door slam, she had barely moved from her position on the bed, sweat trickling in between her breasts underneath her sports bra, running her fingers through her not-quite-sexed hair. For some reason, the warmth that filled her stomach cooled to something more worrisome: just the slightest bit of hurt.

She had wanted him to prove that he was just like all the other guys who ogled her body and were quick to jump at the chance to fuck her...and yeah, Emmett had proved that he wanted her, but it was in a way that wasn't like her other partners. With a sigh, she flopped back on her bed, wondering how she had let the situation get so out of hand she was now lying here frustrated and craving Emmett's touch.

Grant was supposed to be the one she wanted... _right_?

A little voice in the back of her head reminded her, as Stephanie stared up at the ceiling of her room, that Emmett had stared at her eyes, his brown gaze heady and heavy and full of want that he was desperately trying to hide. Even as his hands wandered, his touch feather-light and pressing firmly into her skin in turns...he never looked away from her eyes.

She quickly grabbed her phone, leaving herself a note to look up who the hell Vladimir Ullrich was, before tossing it to the side. Slipping a hand beneath her leggings, she lost herself to the image of dark brown eyes boring into hers, lips leaving firm kisses on her skin, and hands that teased pleasure out of her by just the simplest of touches and made her wonder what it would be like if the touches were _less_ innocent.

And after she came (Emmett's name on her lips, though she would deny it), she remembered to put her walls back up, to shrug the Stifler reputation back on, and plan how she was going to seduce Grant with old man saxophone music of all things.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Like I said at the top, I'm not expecting a whole lot (if any) hits, but if you liked it, please consider leaving a kudos or comment, I will cherish every one!!
> 
> Thanks again!!


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